


(not) a girl of sixteen

by Saraste



Series: A Cottage on the Cliffs [10]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Domestic, F/F, Femslash, Femslash February, Pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 21:31:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9845897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: Sansa and Margaery get a dog. And a charlady.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for prompt: animals/pets.

The summer of their first year in the cottage, they get themselves a dog.

 

While no dog can replace Sansa’s lost childhood-companion Lady, a steadfast loyal canine companion, who had never acted anything but delighted towards Margaery, the floppy eared golden puppy surely tries. Lady’s passing had been conveyed in a letter during the time when the War had separated them. The loss of her constant companion had been hard on Sansa on top of everything else that she had had to endure during that troubled time, so it is a surprise to Margaery that it had been Sansa herself who had first suggested that they might procure a canine companion to add to their little household of two.

 

*

 

‘It might be nice, might make us feel safer.’ Her fingers twitched as if she had been grasping the thick neck ruff of a dog as she spoke and Margaery had had no intention to deny her this, if it’s what she desires.

 

‘I have no objection, if we can find a suitable dog.’ 

 

Sansa looks aside. For it is Margaery who keeps track of their finances, Sansa having no head for numbers. ‘Can we afford it?’

 

‘Yes. There’s some money coming in now from the family investments, so we might even--’ 

But she is stopped from saying “get someone come in to char the place” before she has an armful of Sansa, who is peppering her face with delighted kisses.

 

Margaery feels her flower-crown dip down over one ear, the chair below her creaks, the sea sighs and crashes beyond the cliffs.

 

‘Thank you!’ Sansa repeats over and over, settling to perch atop Margaery’s lap.

 

‘You sat on the beans,’ Margaery has to point out.

 

Sansa giggles, the shadow of the carefree girl she once was writ across her for a fleeting moment, underlined by her smile. ‘I don’t care!’

 

‘We  _ will _ \---’

 

There is a crack and they end up a giggling messy heap on the ground, Margaery’s chair having given out, beans and all. The sea sighs, a gentle coastal wind blows and it is summer and they are alive.

 

*

 

Come mid-August, they are fawning over a puppy and have a woman from the village coming in to clean once a week. Sansa smiles like she did before the War, open and bright, her hair a stream behind her as she runs and runs, the little golden puppy following in her wake, the pair making Margaery smile as she leans against the wall around their garden, thinking idly what gossip such youthful indulgence will lead to, as Sansa is not a girl of sixteen no more. Having a charlady is both a blessing and a hindrance in that way, but they have the money and the pay puts more food onto the plates of Mrs Johnson’s children and Sansa and Margaery do not have to clean the cottage themselves, so the good outweighs whatever gossip might ensue.

 

‘She seems happy with the puppy, your friend, miss Stark,’ Mrs Johnson opines as she comes to stand near Margaery, having thrown their bedroom rug over the stone wall to air out as she lets the washed floor dry.

 

Margaery smiles, doesn’t turn to look at her. ‘She had a dog as a child that she loved very much, it’s good to see her this happy again.’

 

The older woman sighs. ‘It’s no good, you two pretty young things living out here alone.’

 

Margaery nods her head to where Sansa is sitting on long grass holding the golden retriever puppy Sansa named Queenie, the puppy is licking her face enthusiastically. ‘Well, we have our guard dog now.’

 

Mrs Johnson laughs. ‘And a fearsome brute she is.’

 

‘Indeed.’

 

Mrs Johnson eventually leaves, Sansa and Margaery stand side by side at the front door to see her off on her bicycle. 

 

‘Do you think she suspected anything?’ Sansa asks. The wife and mother of six is already out of hearing distance yet neither of them dares to clasp the other’s hand in theirs.

 

‘No, we messed up the sheets in the other bed before, remember?’ 

 

‘I wish we didn’t need to…’

 

Margaery dares to take hold of Sansa’s hand and squeezes. ‘I know. Maybe someday…’

 

They both sigh. Yes, maybe some day their love will not need to be spoken about in hushed whispers, hidden like something unseemly, maybe someday there will be a world where they can live together openly as couple… even marry. Queenie bounds up and down at their feet, yipping, demanding attention and they cannot wallow for long. Both laugh as the puppy smother’s Sansa’s face with enthusiastic licks when Sansa picks her up. They have a clean house, they can cook a variety of meals, they have each other, they have Queenie...

 

Life is good, if not entirely perfect. 


End file.
